Well alright, Semagic has changed more than a little since the last time I used it. Heh. This is pretty ridiculous.

Because Tamara has chosen to CAST SHAME on me repeatedly I decided to actually grab and use the client so I don't have any excuses. Expect for the big excuse that I tend not to have much to say these days. Which in and of itself I guess is noteworthy because, man, when the hell have I ever been at a loss for words? Doesn't happen often, folks, and it's usually drug induced.

Work is pretty overwhelming and fulfilling by turns. Nothing I can't handle and nothing that's going to make me hit panic attack land any time soon.
My husband is awesome in all ways. ALL. WAYS. Awesome. yay!
My dog rocks. She is a rock star and she will rock your face off. And something else with "rock" in it.
the cats - awesome.

Uh... yeah... I'm doing well. I'm sure I'll hit a talkative patch, though, and NOW I AM PREPARED. whoooo

I think I need to remember to keep the LJ open in the background. Download another client for it and actually run the thing. Maybe that will increase my usage?

What LJ clients are there even these days?

LOOK AT HOW OLD I SOUND

"I'm like... Jim Bruer high..."

I forget I have this thing. I still log in and read entries from you people. But mostly it's entries from people I don't really know. Because everyone has apparently moved off to twitter or facebook or twitter and facebook or myspace or... whatever Web2.0 community is the shitnizzle this week.

So I'm going to try harder to use this thing. I make one of these posts every 6 months or so, but no srsly, like, ferreal, I mean it.

Yep.

I make a lot of non-meaningful updates and statement in other communities and they never make their way back here long form thought is hard and I'm brain lazy these days. But that's a shitty excuse and so I'm gonna stop doing that.

I'm not promising any NaNoWriMo action or anything like that. I'm just baby-stepping back into journaling. Because endless navel gazing is surely the therapy on a budget that my friends list adulation makes me think it is... right?

Scott! Alicia!
I am soooo gonna call you guys. It's pretty much 99% work related so do I call the number on your site (where it says to ask for scott anyway) or some other number? Email me and tell me what to do. I'll have something official set up for Monday (a little gotomeeting action, I think)if you're available but I'd like to get talking as soon as possible.


Apparently this is the kind of message people put on Facebook these days but I forget I even have one of those for months at a time until someone mentions in a cranky way that "well, I put it on my facebook..."

"...May the ancestors watch over you. I will be hiding in the bushes if you need me for anything else."

My mom called today. Ever the bearer of awesomeness (that's sarcasm) she was calling to tell me about my brother in law.

My sister and my brother in law have finally after 17 years realized that they sort of hate each other and that this "I'm not talking to you for 2 weeks" shit every month has to stop. So she brought up divorcing and he was amenable and seemed okay. They've been stuck in a shit financial situation so they're slowly separating, still living in the same house. It takes a long time to get your life untangled when it gets that tangled.

Apparently my sister slept in on Sunday. When she got up, she took a shower, lazed around the house a bit... then realized Bill wasn't there. So she thought about looking for him. But, ya know... they're starting the process of a divorce. So she waited. But after awhile she thought it was strange enough that she started looking around. She didn't see him around the house. So she peeked outside, saw his truck was still there.

She went out to ask him what he was doing and discovered that he had a hose running from his exhaust into his window, that he was non responsive, drooling all over himself, half dead from the carbon monoxide. My sister who has worked in the medical field for over 20 years freaked out and called my mom to ask what to do...

So they get an ambulance out there and got him to the hospital. They treated him with high oxygen levels and kept him under observation all day asking him basic questions. No signs of brain damage, no permanent damage of any kind. They transported him to a psych ward where he was supposed to be for 7 to 10 days but they're releasing him tomorrow on condition of his keeping his psych appointments.

My sister feels guilty, blames herself. This piece of shit who has been nothing but selfish and self centered and lodged so far up his own ass it's always been amazing pulled this shit and my SISTER blames HERSELF. I'm just so angry at him for doing this. Because my sister is wrecked. She had just started to get herself back together, to give herself a break, to realize that not *everything* is her fault and this walking sack of worthlessness has fucked that up. AGAIN.

He's never been suicidal a day in his life. And then this out of the blue. It really makes me think the worst of his motivations. But it really doesn't matter why. It's done. And god damn him if this makes Wendy backpedal and go back to the shit she's put up with all these years.

McCain made a completely gracious concession speech. Had the McCain making that speech been visible at ANY TIME during the last year he might had a closer race. As it is, his supporters still can't stop themselves from booing like children, yelling things out, grimacing and frowning and generally looking like someone just shit in their mouths.

I know your candidate lost. But I thought you guys were all about the sanctity of service? You don't boo the President Elect.



I'm happier than I was. Still not really de-stressed. But for the first time in my life I'm living in a blue state. Good job "fake Virginia"!

I've been increasingly tense, stressed out, upset, dreading today more and more over the last week.

For a long time I've dropped out of the political process because it makes me into someone I don't like. It makes my day to day life worse. I would get so angry and disheartened. Just reading things that are going on, what people have to say, how absolutely fucking *vile* most of humanity in general is. It made it hard to get through a day because I had no faith in people at all. Any people. Because I'm an emotional person like that.

So for me to be involved and voting is a big deal for me. And I'm doing it because I feel like I have to. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.

But the more I see from people in this country the more I feel like we deserve whatever we get. Because we are 99% pieces of utter garbage.

"Even she couldn’t stomach the thought of her ungrateful, SOB grandson as the President."

I know people+anonymity+audience = performing assholes. But how do you feel that and think that and type that and post that and then keep coming back to add to it and not once stop and think about how you'd feel if that were said about you, your family, your grandmother?

I'm well and truly scared of how this election is going to turn out. Getting involved in the political process again has made me so disgusted with this country that I don't have words to explain it. But I'm still going out to vote in a little while.

http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-me-wallace14-2008sep14,0,246155.story





"David Foster Wallace, the novelist, essayist and humorist best known for his 1996 novel "Infinite Jest," was found dead Friday night at his home in Claremont, according to the Claremont Police Department. He was 46.

Jackie Morales, a records clerk at the department, said Wallace's wife called police at 9:30 p.m. Friday saying she had returned home to find that her husband had hanged himself."


Cue rabid book buying.
Cue waves of "it's all footnotes" shit talkers.

You love the tortured artists because they're just so tortured but can't stand it when they stop being tortured. However they stop.

"I am not a Mccain supporter but if Obama wins we have babies being murdered and be over run with gay marriage, then maybe you cab marry your dog and who knows what else,and the rich will have to give their earned money to the poor. It will be communist Russia before too long so as you put it, consider that! I can't vote for either in good conscience."

This guy obviously knows his stuff.

and sometimes it takes me in circles. And sometimes it just depresses me. Something spurred me to do another search real quick to see if I could find any pertinent information on my very very uniquely named grandfather.

Looking it up, I found his death record. I knew it was Louisiana, but for some reason I thought it was Shreveport, not Stonewall. The site I was at helpfully displays a little map of the area with a pin for where they died and the nearest cemeteries. He died in '89 and I didn't exactly know him (and by exactly I mean at all). So it's not like I went to the funeral and it's not like my father ever talked about it, suggested we visit... any of that. For as high as the pedestal my father had his father on - he never actually liked him or felt liked by him. He went because he had do. His legacy was a tie clip rolled up in a cigarette wrapper that he shoved into a drawer and left there.

So my grandfather died (killed himself - I guess that makes it different) in the middle of nowhere, not even a major road anywhere near wherever it was he was living. I think it was a motel of some kind. Not the kind you generally live in for more than a day or two - and he'd been there for awhile. No record of his next of kin in the report. No record of his location of birth. His social security number is from California. And he was 71 years old when he died. The index site helpfully offers "historical event" links beside the date of birth and date of death. So that you can swell with pride knowing your second cousin was born on the same day as Rupert Murdoch or that there was some minor war in a minor country on the other side of the world that ceased fire that day. They don't list anything important on either of the dates in my grandfather's death information. The days are just skipped over. Which feels more correct to me than if they'd been strikingly significant.

I have seen photos of this guy from when he was young and handsome and scrappy. I have no image of him (mental or otherwise) from his later years. So it's strange thinking of the cocky ass who beat his wife and lied to his kid about his war exploits and sold him off to the military as a way of washing his hands of any filial responsibility ever being old and sick and slowly dying. I think of him with his little mustache and his army uniform from the days when the pants still billowed out to the sides like riding pants. Pint sized Erol Flynn with his shiny hair and his smirk. Why I think of this stranger ghost at all is the part I don't understand. My family is dominated by resilient women whose husbands were poorly chosen or just ineffectual. My family history is a history of women subjugating themselves needlessly to domineering men who made up for being useless by also being mean. There are a few exceptions. But most of them are dead too.

And that's my morbid and morose line of thought for the day out of the way, then.

If you regularly find yourself using words like "Winblows" or putting the dollar sign in "M$" you are an enormous dipshit.

"Wintendo" refers to a Windows box that is used SOLELY for the purpose of gaming and implies that everything else you use is *nix or its relatives. "Wintendo" is not a clever way of saying "Windows" in general. It is very specific. If you are using "Wintendo" incorrectly you are exactly the person who shouldn't be trying to use the word "Wintendo". And you're a tool.

I just had to look up which of the axes on a graph is the X and which is the Y. Chart making is 80% of the my livelihood (or so it seems sometimes). This would be like a butcher having to look up where the "loin" was or instructions on how to butterfly a chicken breast.

man, that's deep...

"My love for you won't last for one day.
My love for you will last for two."

Him: remind me - not that you'll need me to - but remind me how much I love you.
Me: Heh, I think you left out a word.
Him: *got = wish
Him: Several
Me: Alright well now I'm just confused
Him: Ok- several
Me: I'll just ask tomorrow I guess
Him: Npoooooooooo
Me: uh oookay
Him: Hooooooooolly
Me: Yes?

Him: :) la la la la la

way way way later (4:30 am my time, about 2 hours after I gave up and tried to go to sleep):

Him: Fife. Hahahaha. I said "dude" and it came out fide.
Him: Fife
Him: hahaha
Him: Fruiuiuiuiuiiuiunk
Him: hahah
Him: Damn I wish you were here. I swear sometime I will take you to LA and make you like it.
Him: I want you to repeat this to yourself: "I am this the shit and fuck you if you don't know. Because as I have mentioned previously, I am the shit"

"Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, tits."


r.i.p. Carlin.

How else would I have learned the word "Scumpulescent"?

I don't post here much at the moment because my mental energy is absolutely flat-lined.

But we bought a new mattress that is so fantastic I cannot even begin to explain. And it actually makes it difficult to get the hell out of bed whether I've slept a full night or not.

I'm sort of ridiculously off. I haven't swept the house in weeks and GOD does it show. The front room is clogged with boxes that need to be broken down for recycling. I have to think 3 days in advance to ensure that I have something to wear for a standing Thursday appointment, and the wall calendar that's directly in front of me is flipped to October. Of 2006.

But I guess I'm okay on the whole. We're a little broke, pretty damned stressed out and tired, and not really doing half the things we feel like we should. But I'm kind of sick to death of beating myself up for not being/doing/feeling/etc. how I think I should. I'm just gonna do what I do on a day to day basis and be happy with whatever gets done.

I'm trying to take the time to listen to music more often. Use up leftovers. I bought a bunch of reuseable bags for grocery shopping and that will be awesome. We can't leave a Wegmans without 40 bags. The cashiers have all apparently been abused by that one idiot old lady who freaks out about having anything touch anything or be on top of anything else. I just had it all crammed into my cart for an hour, dude... pack those fucking bags up. (one of the things I like about Trader Joes is not only the all paper thing but the way they will pack THE FUCK out of those bags). I want to make tamales. I want to get a better coffee maker. I want to have an office max shopping spree and not feel guilty about having nowhere to store it. I want to take a nap on the awesome bed with Karl and Mika in the middle of the day when the sun is making the room warm and sleeping for an hour feels like 4.

so uh .. yeah. heh.